


Shelter

by astrapia1



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23159866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrapia1/pseuds/astrapia1
Summary: Deniss Vasiljevs is straight. Stéphane puts down a mental note in bright orange color. On one hand he find it comforting because even Stéphane Lambiel has certain fear of fucking things up, on the other hand, Deniss always makes it to catch all the points HE deems important, which differs from Stéphane's.
Relationships: Stéphane Lambiel/Deniss Vasiļjevs
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Shelter

Deniss is such a straight guy.  
The first time Stéphane noticed that, it was only the beginning of coaching him. He came back to the changing room to see if he’s lost a CD there. Deniss looked up at him in a quick motion and went back undressing. until only his boxers was left. His thigh muscles moved like fluid. His back looks much boarder off costume and covered by delicate lines.  
“I like the sauna room there, do you think I can use it now?” Deniss said lazily.  
“Of course.” Stéphane made sure he answered in a low tone and tried not to think why his breath pace quickened when he saw his student. It must be the fact that he had been single for too long, he decided.

The next time it happened, Stéphane had been long past finding his student attractive, or at least he thought so. They’ve established a high level of mutual trust, enough to make Deniss throw straight balls at him and he be honest to Deniss more than he was to any of his students before.

Straight balls. The Japanese journalist asked Deniss in a light, curious manner : Have you got any idea that you coach was kind of dancing behind the board while you were competing?  
Stéphane was a little nervous - not like he could help the dancing thing or he wanted to, but he didn’t want Deniss to ask him or to search on YouTube after -  
“Come on, I KNOW, of course. ” Deniss replied with a tone as certain as saying he is NOT BLIND.  
Stéphane palmed his face in front of the camera for the very first time in ages since he retired.

Being an elite athlete and an ex-world champion and Stéphane Lambiel means, he usually gets away doing things that would be a disaster attempted by other people as long as he ultilizes some technique from his tool box. For example, a smile with winks, or a softened, alluring way of saying “that’s so kind of you”.  
Yet he can’t use them on Deniss. And Deniss did not seem to get it either anyway.

Deniss made him beef stew miraculously using just ingredients left in his fridge. He expected it to be a lot of meat and tomato, and he was right. What he did not expect it to be so tasty and so very home-style, comforting.  
“That’s so very, very kind of you.” Stéphane said, voice low. He didn’t mean to flirt with his student at all, but this is almost mechanical for him to have a charming touch in his voice, a special sweetness in his eyes when he felt slightly guilty or uneasy. Such is what usually makes the other person’s knees weak and so he had returned either a thanks or at least would have more control over the situation.

“You are welcome.” Deniss answered, looked straight back into his eyes. Voice steady. The same poker face.

Stéphane blinked.

Deniss took another bite and made a content noise. “I really like it hot.” He said. “Don’t you think hot stew is the best in winter?”  
Stéphane thought about it : “You haven’t tried Fondues.” He didn’t know where this came from, but now he wanted to take Deniss to try great food here, no matter how difficult it would be in this tiny town. He would.

Deniss also likes it, surprisingly, to have a push-up or pull-up or spinning time count against other students. He loves it to top in those games. Straight guys. Stéphane smiled, they could never reject the temptation of a battle. Preferably winning them.

————————

He invites Deniss to skate with him because the latter reminds him of his younger self the most in the sense of body condition, injury, pure passion for the ice. What’s more, he recognized a certain pride they have in common. On one hand, this pride ensures that he does not just deliver the elements and moves, but commits to his programs to a level that they communicate with the audience as if it's alive. On the other hand, this method consumes the energy that he could have saved to please the judges, the technical experts and the scoring system.

Elite skaters are extremely competitive creatures. Therefore, be it a student or another skater who looks for choreography, Stéphane would always check with them politely here and there to clarify if they come to him simply for points, more points. He doesn’t enjoy working that way but it costs more than ever before to miss a technical move now, so he never complains.

But Deniss welcomes flavor and style in his skating. It is not going to win him a medal and he knows it more than anyone. Still, he tries all ideas that Stéphane come up with and he would keep them in as long as they happen to him naturally in the program. Time shuts itself down when he works with Deniss, because Stéphane is allowed to be himself again, as if he was still that flamenco dancer tho received raving reviews after winning just a bronze.

Straight guys in this field usually have some issues on dancing. Stéphane grins thinking about it. He remembers some in his generation, Tomas Verner, Evan Lysacek - all wonderful skaters but they don’t dance. However, he’s got to help Deniss getting to know his just matured body. It’s crucial now after all the change happened in that age for an athlete. The weights and endurance are not enough for it. He’s got to teach Deniss dance to make the best use of his body.

They ended up in a dual program where they push and pull each other. To his surprise, Deniss was a little reluctant to that idea at first.  
“But we don’t have to do that ice dance thing, do we? We can do side-by-side, or mirroring. We don’t tango, do we?”  
“Deniss. Look. Just push me back here - and then come back to me and use that force to wrap your arms on me so we can do a half spin - careful of that!”  
Deniss lost his balance and fell to the side and rolled his eyes.

“It will be better. This is the best start for you.” Stephane quickly put on his coach armor, “You will not regret this. And you are the one having longer limbs so if we do the same moves like that, you have an ideal extension range and look more graceful.”  
Deniss didn’t seem to be convinced but agreed to get up and try again.

Deniss has long legs indeed. Stéphane cursed later in the changing room because he could still feel those legs tangled around his when they fell. He closed his eyes, but the images wouldn’t leave as he had looked closely for so long today at those legs only to make sure the steps were executed correctly. Besides, he could smell Deniss and his cologne - no. no. no. Deniss is a straight guy. He doesn’t like weaknesses. Particularly, he won’t like it when his own coach grows a weakness because of him. 

Still, they repeated that program again and again and again. Sometimes it was just simple. Sometimes it felt like a ritual to something. Weeks later when they fell into this harmony and the dynamics of theirs filled the ice, Stéphane almost whistled in triumph.

He bottles the way Deniss looked at him in that gala as well. Deniss didn’t see him as a coach, an ex world champion, but a partner, a man of the same level in terms of energy. He challenges and pushes him, supports and echos him using his now much skilled steps. The center of his body shifts gracefully. 

In the middle of the night, Stéphane imagined if they’d met as just one man and another, not in this situation, not in this world, maybe another life - No. He couldn’t.

The fact that Deniss, being so straight as usual, had recently been even closer to him physically and mentally without a problem did not help either. This young Latvian's new habit was to suddenly hug him from behind these days, breath right against his ear - fuck.

  
Stephane lowered his head with a frustrated sigh. Fuck. He was not going to touch himself thinking of his blond student. No. 

—————————————————

The world championships was canceled that year and flights are canceled too when pandemics swept Europe. Deniss suddenly had a whole week free before he could find his first flight home.

They decided to go camping to a popular star-gazing site near where they are.

It was perfect. The air, the food, the picnic and the young people among them. After dinner, people scattered in the camping site.

They walked in leisure and Stéphane heard something and had to stop.

It was a girl playing guitar. He could not breath anymore. It was an old sound coming from what feels like a century ago, slow, nostalgic melody -  
Poeta.

After Vancouver he had a lot of nightmares on La Traviata, but Poeta was something else. La Traviata was his failure and no matter how bitter it was and how painful it felt, he was a elite athlete and he could deal with failures as long as he pays the price. However, Poeta was a fight, a war with himself, a certain exploring with his ability and drive.

Poeta marks what he knows have to put behind him. There's this warrior sleeping inside. That's the one who took him to the very top of the world, and beyond. Poeta is more than world titles. It was the ultimate fight for his warrior self. On that very evening in Tokyo, he wielded intangible weapons that only known in legends and myths. His skates took him to a new territory. It was the final war, the coronation for who he actually is. 

But his war was over a long time ago. This warrior self of him is such a tremendous personality and threats both his competitors and himself. When he could no longer fuel him with adrenaline and challenges, the warrior is at constant frustration. Stephane tried many things, but nothing really worked. That's why over the years, he finally learned to sedate this gladiator inside. 

But that night it all went back to him. The blinding white of the ice. The cold. The people screaming. The way his body seemed to move on its on like a fluid. He was able to dance and fight at the same time during that four and a half minutes. His story. 

On that narrow bed of the camping site, he wrapped himself as tight as he could with three blankets and tears fell silently. He cried for what he knows wouldn’t come back but he misses so deeply it’s taking him apart.

It must be already 2AM, 3AM, 4AM - he didn’t know. And then, the weight of his bed shifted. A warm and familiar lengthy figure lied down beside him and held him from behind.

Deniss wrapped his arm on Stéphane and held him close onto his chest. Still, no word spoken. Just sharing his warmth for him. Stephane sobbed a little, curled and squirmed closer back. He could be vulnerable. Just for this night.

—————————

They didn’t talk about it after.

Deniss didn’t leave on time because his flight got delayed to couple of days later. They cooked and shared more time together. Stéphane started to avoid eye contact with his student during the private time because he is blessed with this expressive face and he knows that no matter how straight Deniss is, he’d be able to tell something sooner or later.  
Stéphane Lambiel isn’t good at hiding emotions after all. Any emotions. And even journalists know that.

Stéphane dozed off during their Star Trek movie night. When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t move his arms. He looked and found they were tied to each side of the sofa. Before he started to panic, he saw Deniss beside him and somehow relaxed. He must be safe with Deniss.

Deniss put a hand on his belly, a calming movement.

“I find it that you would never do it and would never let me do it.” Deniss said, clearly and slowly, “if I don’t do it this way.”

Their eyes met. Stéphane suddenly froze. The look in Deniss’ eyes was familiar, but something wild was unmasked for the first time. Deniss curled his lips. He brushed his finger tip very lightly on the side of Stéphane’s neck, content to find the beautiful Swiss shivered at his touch. He leaned in and his lips replaced his fingers.

“Deniss,” his coach almost hissed, “This is such a strange dream. Let me go - no, not there, -“ Deniss put his lips on a spot just behind Stéphane’s ears his coach took a quick breath in and couldn’t finish his sentence. He attacked that spot even lighter and gentler and he heard a stuffed moan from his coach.

  
“You want this with me. You like it when I do this.” Deniss said firmly and finally, finally - kissed those soft lips. It was innocent first and Stéphane was resisting, but Deniss forced his tongue in and soon Stéphane gave in to the sensations, opened up for him and returned the kiss eagerly.

“It’s such a strange dream…” Stéphane whispered.

“You dreamed of kissing me?” Deniss asked. Clearly, always the straightfoward one.

Oh God. Stéphane thought. This is not a dream at any chance because otherwise he’d wake up already in pure shame.

Deniss didn’t leave him more time to think and moved his lips back to that sensitive spot. This time he blows air into his ear and then nibbles his earlobe ever so gently.

“Fuck, Deniss, not like that, please, please, it feels too good….”He started to squirm. But Deniss kept him there. One hand slipped down into his boxers. Just one touch and he lost all of his control.

His hands broke free some time in between but he couldn’t care less. All he could feel is his young, alluring student who took over his world for a while.

After that, they lied there.

I’m totally fucked. He thought. But Deniss got close again and they cuddle and suddenly he knew that they would be fine.


End file.
